


Music To My Ears

by taormina



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Misophonia, forever fucking on rooftops, sound sensitivity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 17:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6763681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taormina/pseuds/taormina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“On most days, sounds were a blessing for Matt. A compass. They were a means of leading him through city streets and the quiet spaces of other people’s apartments, but not now, not today. On all those other days, the days when everything was too loud and far too cacophonous, sounds were Matt’s own worst enemy.”</p><p>Or: that time when Frank and Matt had sex, and Frank was too damn loud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music To My Ears

Frank first realized how sensitive Matt Murdock was when they fucked on that cold, quiet rooftop after a summer rainstorm had come and drenched them both. They were only trying to have a chat about the rights and wrongs of the small, lethal industry they were in when a soft rumble of thunder in Matt’s ear heralded the coming of rainclouds and a storm thereafter; six seconds later, they scrambled to their feet and tried and failed to find shelter. Matt’s white dress shirt had been rendered a useless, soaking wet mess, and Frank could see right through.

Quite frankly, it was hard not to see it as an invitation: every piece of Matt’s body that Frank had previously been _so_ desperate to see was now presented in front of him in a white, thin frame of fabric. It was wrong and glorious, and oh so tempting.

Clearly, Matt thought so too.

It was an odd place to make love. The cold concrete of the floor felt like ice to Matt’s naked back, and their wet trousers were a bitch to get out of. The dark, open sky above them provided no shelter. Goosebumps appeared on their skins as a chilly breeze ran over their arched bodies, and Frank felt sure that they’d both be sick in bed the next day. The same bed, presumably. What a strange idea.

And shit, Murdock was _horny_. So, so horny. He damn loved the way Frank kissed and bit his neck and spat on him because they were both already wet anyway, and when Frank’s leather jacket brushed against his naked skin he damn nearly came too soon. Everything felt wonderful and amazing and better than anything Matt had ever been through, and Frank knew it. Frank Castle knew exactly how good he was.

Then Frank noisily slipped into the attorney while his hard, calloused hands were pressed into Matt’s soft thighs, and for a flicker of a moment, something about the usually so tough Devil of Hell’s Kitchen changed. He became distracted. Anxious, _nervous_ — only to return back to normal a gentle, testing thrust later. He was enjoying this, and so was Frank.

But a part of him wasn’t. Matt had shared intimate moments with many men and women indeed – some of them less appealing than someone as incomparably irresistible as Frank Castle – but they all shared the same common trait regardless of who or what they were: they all made too much noise.

On most days, sounds were a blessing for Matt. A compass. They were a means of leading him through city streets and the quiet spaces of other people’s apartments, but not now, not today. On all those other days, the days when everything was too loud and far too cacophonous, sounds were Matt’s own worst enemy. Sometimes, he hated the ticking of a clock he could not see. He hated the coughing child on an already crowded, noisy subway train. The sound of nails upon skin as someone scratched themselves. Foggy, never blowing his damn nose but always sniffing. Car honks, everywhere.

Because Matt saw nothing, he heard everything: faraway cars, phone calls, the footsteps of his neighbours. How could that _not_ completely overwhelm him?

Even now, as Frank fucked him roughly and expertly, Matt’s senses were turned up to eleven. He not only heard the hunger and desperation in Frank’s voice as he filled him up inside but also — his — every — moan. Every single one of them, even the soft ones caused by a gentle kiss here or a soft touch there. He heard the unsteady breathing. The sound of skin being slapped. Spit and pre-cum trickling down his thighs as Frank moved faster still. His own gaps. The sound of delayed raindrops falling from the sky and hitting Frank’s naked arms. The rumbling of an engine as a plane flew past their not so quiet retreat, distracting Matt until it was the only thing he heard.

And God, did he enjoy being fucked by Frank. He fucking _loved_ it, and he wanted more, more, more. But all those sounds? Combined with the itching, burning, stretching feeling of Frank filling him whole? It was all becoming too much, too loud too soon.

‘I’m so sorry, Frank, I . . .’ Looking as if he were about to panic, Matt pushed Frank’s naked body away from him and sat up, panting. His ears were buzzing. His skin was tingling, but not in a good way. He almost thought he could hear and feel everything in the world until a warm, wet hand rested on his own and brought him back to his senses.

‘You okay, Red?’ Frank sounded worried.

Matt gave a wordless shake of his head. He wasn’t okay.

Okay, that was a new one. He’d never seen Murdock like this before, not outside of missions and chases, anyway. He was usually so calm and collected, and now he looked as though someone had pulled the rug from under his feet and severely harmed or offended him. Frank didn’t think he was doing that badly just a minute ago, so he couldn’t tell what it was.

He wished he could.

‘Gotta admit, Red,’ Frank said, the nonchalance in his voice belying his deep worry for Matt, ‘I’ve never heard complaints about my size before, you know.’

Matt let out a short, sheepish laugh. ‘It’s not that.’

‘Then what?’ Frank said, followed by a gentle, nervous squeeze of Matt’s hand. It wasn’t something he was used to doing anymore, not with anyone, but Matt seemed to appreciate it so he kept his hand there, in Matt’s, until his partner calmed down. It was the least he could do.

Matt was silent as he tried to focus on one sound only, but he couldn’t find one. Everything was too loud still.

Eventually, he decided to settle on Frank’s heartbeat. It had slowed down considerably since they’d undressed, and it matched his breathing now: slow, steady. Trustworthy. Something about it told Matt that whatever he told Frank next wouldn’t reach the ears of others. He’d be safe telling him.

‘It’s all the — the noise, Frank,’ said Matt, shakily. He had intended to speak slowly so as to choose his words carefully, but quite the opposite happened. Every word came rushing out of his mouth like the rain that had just fallen out of the sky. ‘I can’t get it out of my head and the more I think about it the more I — the more I listen to it. I wish I could shut it all off and enjoy what we’re doing, but I can’t, Frank. I — I can’t. Goddammit, Frank, I want you to — to make love to me, but, I mean, God, you’re so _loud_. Everything is. All around me. While you’re kissing me I’ll be listening to the sound of a — a damn plane flying overhead and I don’t _want_ that. I don’t want that. I’m sorry, Frank. God, I’m so sorry.’

Feeling awkward, Matt covered his cold, naked body with his discarded clothes while Frank mulled over what he’d said. Frank’s hand was still on his, and they were sitting only an arm’s length away, intimately. (And still very naked.)

God, he really hoped Frank wouldn’t think him an idiot or a pussy. Or both. A wet but beautiful summer night like this might not ever come to be ever again, and now he’d ruined it because he just felt and heard so _much_.

Finally, Frank spoke. He did so uncharacteristically quietly, like _he_ was the one who had to choose his words carefully. ‘Shit, man, you should’ve said. I could’ve been quiet, you know. I mean, Christ, Red, I did go to church once, long ago. I know how to keep my mouth shut. Would’ve made one hell of a bad Navy Seal if I couldn’t, you know.’

He wasn’t lying. If needed be, he’d do anything Matt Murdock asked of him, and Matt knew it. You didn’t need special powers to hear the sincerity in Frank’s voice.

‘Really?’ Matt swallowed. ‘I mean, you’d do that for me?’

‘If that’s what you want, yeah. Shit, Red, of course I would.’

Shit, he didn’t even have to think about it. Frank _knew_ that Matt had struggles. They both did; Frank still couldn’t go to bed without having terrible, all-consuming nightmares, and likewise Matt must probably suffer too. You couldn’t do this job and expect to get out of each mission unscathed. Perhaps whatever had blinded Matt and given him his superpowers had overcompensated on his other senses too much, and how could Frank not accept that? If he didn’t, he sure of hell didn’t deserve the positive, life-saving side of Matt’s powers either.

In the background, a police siren sounded. A woman two floors down turned over in her old, squeaky bed, but Matt hardly heard it. If he concentrated really, really hard, all he could hear was Frank listen for his answer.

Frank Castle _cared_ for him. What a wonderful thought.

‘W-would you mind going to my place, Frank?’ Matt stammered, more nervous because of what he’d just admitted than the prospect of finishing what they’d started. He really, really wanted to finish what they’d started. God, it’d felt so good to have Frank inside of him. ‘It’s — it’s really noisy out here, and I don’t want to . . .’

Matt didn’t have to finish his sentence. Frank had already gotten up and hastily put on his clothes, and when they arrived at Matt’s dark, dirty apartment ten minutes later, they finally made love — in complete silence.

All Matt could hear was his own heartbeat _racing_ as they both came. Quietly. Beautifully.

**Author's Note:**

> I was dealing with a really bad case of misophonia/sound sensitivity yesterday, so I wrote this. I really hope this wasn’t offensive to anyone.


End file.
